What's in the Water
by catfoxy
Summary: Ethan catches something during a mission. It ain't fish. But it involved water. Lots of it, in fact.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: _

_Okay. I confess that the "What a Tangled Web" story is facing another delay. LOL_

_I was hit by another story idea last night. It's kinda related to the fact that I've been nursing a bad cold for the past week. So let's just say I did the research for some parts of this the hard way. _

_This is not a one-shot. I've got a team/Ethan storyline planned out. So just sit back, start reading and enjoy! There'll be more to come soon. :o)_

_Summary: Ethan catches something during a mission. It ain't fish. But it involved water. Lots of it, in fact._

**What's in the Water**

It must have been one hell of a landing. At least that's what Brandt, Jane and Benji concluded when they finally arrived at the bottom of the waterfall that Ethan and their target had just gone over in a wrestling tangle.

As they saw Ethan struggling out of the water, pulling a clearly less than conscious Hernesto Handerez along behind himself, they couldn't help but notice how Ethan was still harshly coughing out water even as he staggered onto dry land.

Ethan didn't even look to see where he dropped Handerez onto the shore, before he himself leaned forward, his hands on his knees, breathing heavily as his face turned a worrisome shade of pallor.

Jane and Benji were with him within seconds, while Brandt checked and secured Handerez.

"Ethan, are you alright, man?" Benji asked worriedly, as he and Jane reached him, and helped lead Ethan a few steps further away from the water's edge, to get him to sit down on a tree stump. Ethan didn't resist. That alone told them just how much Ethan didn't trust his own legs at the moment.

Jane also really didn't like the way Ethan was shivering slightly even as he sat. The air around them was humid. So it couldn't be from feeling cold. As she glanced back towards the pond of water that was being fed by the waterfall, she realized that it may not have only been the high fall and the hard landing that had Ethan standing a bit beside himself now.

What really had her worried were the foamy areas at the far end of pond, and the stale-smelling, smaller water holes that were directly connected with this body of water.

They had seen Ethan struggle with Handerez even during the fall, right before Ethan had taken the brunt of the impact on the water. The chances were high that Ethan had inevitably swallowed a good load of it, before he had been able to come up again for air.

And while, in the end, Ethan had obviously still somehow managed to finish the fight with Handerez, Jane couldn't shake the feeling that the actual winner of this battle had been the brackish water of this pond. The very water that Ethan was still coughing up. Water that clearly held more bacteria than could be good for even a person as healthy and as strong as Ethan.

With these thoughts in mind, Jane kept a close eye on Ethan as he got his strength back while he sat on the tree stump. It took a few minutes, which gave Benji and Brandt the chance to package up Handerez in a nice bundle, binding his hands with rope and a piece of tape over his mouth so they wouldn't have to listen to his argument that he 'didn't feel like walking'. Well, tough luck. Neither Brandt nor Benji cared one iota about Handerez's feelings.

By the time they were done, and Handerez was safely flanked by Brandt, Ethan had gotten some color back in his face. In fact, he was looking decidedly better. So much so that he eventually gave them the signal to get ready to move out again. They still had about an hour's trek through the jungle to cover before they would reach their extraction point, where they would be picked up by a plane to be flown back home.

As they moved out, Ethan seemed to have mostly recovered from his unplanned dive and bath. In fact, during the first half hour of their trek home, Jane actually began to relax again as she saw that Ethan was moving at point with his usual efficiency and at normal speed.

But that didn't last. By the time they neared the little jungle airport, Ethan no longer even tried to wipe away the sweat from his forehead anymore – which was yet another clue to the rest of the team that their leader was starting to come down with something that couldn't be fully hidden anymore.

They got their next piece of evidence as soon as they stepped onto the plane. On any normal mission that ended with a pick-up by one of these rather expensive private jets, Ethan could be trusted to go and ask the pilot of the plane to switch places with him, so Ethan could get some flight time in. It was one of the things the team had found out early on about their team leader. The man loved to fly.

But this time, as they boarded the private jet that would take them home, Ethan made no attempt to even ask.

In fact, after he had changed into some new, clean clothes, Ethan came back from his bunk in the back of the plane without even one look in the direction of the cockpit. He merely glanced at where Jane had secured the now sedated Handerez to a chair, before he walked over to them and sat down in his own seat diagonally across from Benji and Brandt.

As Ethan then poured himself some cold water from a bottle on the small cabin desk, he didn't even appear to notice the concerned glances that were exchanged over his head between his friends. Halfway through the flight Ethan excused himself once more to the curtained-off back of the plane where their bunks were located.

At Jane's slightly worried question as to whether he was feeling alright, he just nodded and sent a tiredly mumbled "yeah, no need to worry" over his shoulder before he disappeared from their view.

It wasn't that they didn't want to believe him.

But the man _had_ been known to have the tendency to forget about such simple things as his own health, when there wasn't someone around to actually remind him that he needed to take care of himself. They had learned that lesson the hard way a couple of times before.

So, they decided to give him the benefit of a doubt. For exactly ten minutes.

At ten minutes and one second, Brandt got up from his seat to check on Ethan.

When Brandt came back a few moments later, his gaze was instantly met by two anxious pairs of eyes.

"He's sleeping in his bunk," Brandt answered the unspoken question, as he sat down again, now even more aware of Ethan's empty chair beside his own.

"He actually lay down?" Jane inquired.

Brand simply nodded, knowing exactly what Jane was thinking. Because he was thinking the same.

Ethan wasn't anywhere near as fine as he had told them.

-o-

-o-

_To be continued … because the team has got a plan. The only question is whether Ethan will play along. LOL_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was probably a good thing Ethan was sleeping. Had he known what was going on in the front of the main cabin, he would have probably run instantly - regardless of the fact that they were in a plane that was traveling a couple of kilometers above the ground. And he _might_ not even have bothered to take the time to grab a chute on the way out.

Sitting together, Brandt, Jane, Benji were talking softly as they put together the details of a mission. One that, as they all agreed, would not be led by Ethan. Because this time, Ethan WAS the mission.

The outline of the plan was simple enough.

Step 1: Take Ethan home.

Step 2: Make sure Ethan went to bed.

Step 3: Be there when the other shoe dropped, which – as they were sure beyond the shadow of a doubt – it would, and soon.

There was only one unknown factor in the plan.

Ethan Hunt.

So they knew they had to plan carefully. _Very_ carefully.

A lesser team would have probably scrapped the mission right at that very point, surrendering to the inevitable fact that you could not 'plan' Ethan Hunt. In that regard, he was very much like lightning – impossible to predict and deadly when he hit.

So, in a way, they were trying to catch lightning in a bottle.

It was crazy. But somebody had to do it.

After some thinking, Brandt saw to the first part of their plan:

"They'll probably have a car waiting for us at the airport. If I can get a hand on the keys before Ethan, I can offer to drive you all home, and it's gonna be just like a normal drop-off, we've all done that before. He'll think I'll be taking you two home after we let him out."

Jane nodded, seeing Brandt's point and agreeing with it. Brandt would do the driving. Benji was now smiling as well.

"Perfect, then I'll get to stock up Ethan's kitchen tomorrow," Benji chimed in happily, having found the ideal role for him to play in the plan.

It instantly got him a sharp look from the other two.

For a moment Benji simply gazed right back at them, completely clueless as to what he had said wrong. Then it hit him like a brick.

"Oh, … oh! Right. I'll get real food this time, no fish and chips," Benji hastily elaborated as he realized they had apparently remembered the last time he had gone food-shopping for the whole team. It had been the morning after Jane's birthday party. And that had indeed been one very memorable breakfast.

Brandt and Jane slowly relaxed as they saw that Benji understood the importance of getting _real_ food this time. The idea wasn't to make Ethan sicker. The plan was to help him get better.

"Thank you," Brandt heartily appreciated Benji's reformation, and the man's willingness to let British breakfast traditions be bygones for the duration of this mission.

"Alright, then I'll take the night shift," Jane concluded their planning, "You can pick me up tomorrow morning, if all goes well."

Jane then spared a long glance at the closed curtain behind which she hoped Ethan was still sleeping. Any rest he got now would help them later-on. And depending on how Ethan was doing in the morning, they would then decide whether to set up further rotation plans.

'Provided our mission even gets that far,' Benji thought worriedly as he, too, found his gaze now drawn to the curtain at the end of the small corridor, "I just hope Ethan doesn't take our heads off, once he realizes what's going on.'

And there _would_ come the point, when Ethan found out.

But, personally, Benji planned on being safely hidden somewhere_ behind_ Brandt and Jane when that moment happened. He just hoped that Brandt and Jane were not thinking along the same lines, or they would all end up hiding behind nothing when Ethan came after them…

-o-o-

The remainder of the flight was pretty much uneventful. Ethan had joined them again shortly before the landing. He didn't appear to have slept well at all, and there was now a distinct flush to his cheekbones and around his eyes, but he still didn't let on that he was feeling anything but fine, as they got ready to get off the plane. With slow deliberation, Ethan grabbed his bag from underneath his bunk, and on his way out he even thanked the pilot for the smooth flight.

The pilot took the compliment with gratitude.

Jane took it for what it really was. And she could see from the shocked look on Brandt's and Benji's faces that they had noticed it, too.

To hear Ethan, who normally thought smooth equalled boring, actually _thank_ someone for a smooth flight – it was yet another piece of evidence that hinted at how Ethan was really doing underneath that invincible armor of his.

Once they left the plane, they were met by a second IMF team right on the tarmac. The agents took Handerez off their hands efficiently and quickly. After that, Ethan's team was told that they were free to go home. Their reports weren't needed until next week. In light of their private little 'mission', Jane, Brandt and Benji were glad to hear it. Ethan was, too, although he tried not to show it.

As expected, they were then provided with a car, for which Brandt managed to grab the keys without Ethan even looking twice at what was happening. Benji almost sighed with relief as he saw that first part of their plan work without a hitch. Jane, too, was relieved.

In fact, her first reaction was to chalk up their success to their good planning, or maybe even the luck of the brave. But then she realized she was making the very dangerous mistake of underestimating Ethan. And it suddenly dawned on her that their current driving arrangements may not be the result of _their_ planning after all.

'Don't get too sure of yourself, Jane. Ethan deliberately _let_ Brandt take the keys. He knows that if someone else is driving, it lowers the chances of him slipping up and giving away how weak he's really feeling…'

She couldn't believe how easily she almost fell for it. Even in this condition, Ethan was still outthinking any of them. But so far, his actions were helping their plan. If they could keep this up, this mission could actually work.

With Brandt now driving the car, Jane in the front passenger seat, and Benji occupying the backseat with Ethan, they were headed back to the city. Seeing how Brandt was taking a route along the interstate leading them past downtown, they were obviously headed for Ethan's home first. It was a choice that Ethan was fine with. For his own reasons.

He didn't know that Brandt, Jane and Benji had another reason of their very own.

As they finally pulled up alongside Ethan's house, Jane got out of her seat, making it look like she was simply helping Ethan by opening the car backdoor for him to get out easier.

In a move that belied his true condition – and that made Jane wonder where he was taking the energy to put up this front for them – Ethan slid out of his seat, his bag in one hand, while giving a small wave of goodbye to them with his other hand, obviously thanking them for having dropped him off.

Only he didn't know that he wasn't being dropped off this time.

He still didn't notice anything was wrong as Jane pushed the passenger door closed again – until he realized that she had done so while still standing OUTSIDE the car.

Before his feverish mind could fully grasp the sight, Brandt was already pulling the car off the curb, the roofline sliding out from under Ethan's hand as the car gained speed almost instantly.

It took about two point one seconds, before Ethan's eyes narrowed.

Then he slowly turned to face Jane.

"What… is …this?" Ethan's voice was almost toneless.

And as the process of realization began to flicker in his eyes, she could also see his carefully constructed mask of 'fine' slowly start to slip. The expression on his face was a battle between his anger at having been betrayed and the fact that his knees were slowly starting to feel like they wouldn't hold him up much longer if he didn't put all his concentration on staying upright.

"Ethan…," Jane began. The concern in her voice as well as the look on her face left Ethan with no doubt that he had guessed right. This had been planned.

His real problem right now, however, was that he wasn't in any condition to do much about it. But that didn't mean he couldn't at least try an orderly retreat.

"I'm okay. Really, I'll be fine…" he turned just a little too fast in his hurry to get to his front door before Jane would see him collapse right here on the street.

It was a near thing, but with sheer willpower, Ethan managed to catch himself from falling. Barely.

Jane almost darted forward, but she forced herself to stay where she was. She knew if she took the choice from him now, that would be the end of any future cooperation. She had to _convince_ him. Not take him hostage in his own house.

As soon as he had found his feet again, Ethan scowled. She wasn't sure if he was scowling at himself or at her. His eyes wouldn't really focus, so she couldn't tell.

As she saw him sway again slightly, Jane knew her time was running out. She had to get through to him, and soon. It was time to tell Ethan the truth. At least as much of it as was necessary.

"Yes, the plan was to help you... but for that, you have to let us help you," she hesitated for a short moment, before adding in a soft voice, "Please, Ethan, let us help."

He could no longer think clearly.

She saw Ethan struggle with himself.

And she saw the moment he surrendered.

As he looked up again, she could see the hesitant plea for help in Ethan's eyes. He was now clearly unsteady on his feet.

And this time she immediately moved forward.

Putting his arm around her shoulder, and her other arm around his side, she helped him get into his house. At the back of her mind, dimly, she realized that their first objective had been accomplished.

Ethan was home.

Now, it was time for the next step.

Get Ethan into bed.

-o-

-o-

_To be continued … and NO, I'm NOT thinking what you're not thinking, because if I were thinking it, this story would go places I don't want it to go. So we're taking the moral road on this, okay? :o)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thank you for all your wonderful reviews (BTW, _Sherlock'n'Hunt_: don't worry, I never grow tired of them LOL), I really love hearing from all of you. :o)_

_And to _nunquam perpetuum_: It's funny that you mention that garage fight. I've had some idea in the back of my mind for that for a while now, ever since fox4mel first asked about the timeframe between the end of the fight and the meeting in Seattle. So, let me just say that, while there isn't a story yet, and I don't know when I'll get around to flesh it out, something about that garage fight/aftermath/leading up to Seattle IS in the pipes._

_Anyway, to get back to this story:_

_As you may have noticed, it's been a while since I worked on it, because – _somehow_ LOL – there were always some other ideas getting in my way. But this morning I made it a point to take the outline of the story out of the closet again and actually sit down to get that next chapter fleshed out. So, here it is. I hope you like it. __Oh and, I already apologize for the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. I'm mean that way, I know. ;)_

**Chapter 3**

Once she had Ethan inside the house, there was no way to hide the truth any longer. Ethan was barely able to hold himself upright anymore. He struggled with the cuff of his jacket in an attempt to take it off, not wanting Jane to have to do it for him. In the end, though, he had to accept Jane's help. The sleeves of his jacket seemed to be stuck to him.

When Jane gave him a hand, she instantly realized why the jacket didn't come off as easily as it normally would have. The shirt beneath his jacket was practically drenched in sweat. A detail that the jacket had effectively hidden.

'You really don't do things half-way, don't you, Ethan…' Jane thought, her worry increasing yet another notch.

The man was running a bad fever, one that was obviously getting worse by the minute, and it would soon be more than Ethan could handle by himself.

"And he knows it," Jane realized.

There was no other explanation for why he had done the completely un-Ethan thing to let his guard down like that and let her in. Jane, for her part, was simply glad that he had. And that he obviously trusted her enough to accept her help.

'Alright, Jane, you got your job cut out for you…' she told herself.

But first things first. She couldn't let him go to sleep in those drenched clothes.

A shower was in order. And then new clothes. She certainly wasn't going to let him go to bed wearing nothing.

'I'm gonna have to check if I can find something comfortable that he can sleep in," she thought, and put it on her list of things to do.

As she steered him past the living room and up the stairs to the upper floor, she was glad that Ethan was pretty compliant so far. That changed when he suddenly seemed to become aware of where they were headed. Because they had just _passed_ his upstairs bedroom.

As Ethan's feverish eyes flickered to the bedroom door they had just walked by, and then his gaze came to rest on the bathroom door just ahead of them, his softly mumbled 'wait' was almost too low to hear, but Jane instantly realized that he was gonna make her stop.

So she reluctantly came to a halt about three quarters along the upper floor hallway, no ten feet away from her goal.

Jane knew her next decision was gonna be a delicate one. She wanted to let Ethan call as many shots as he was physically still able to, because she knew he needed to have that security, that he needed to feel that he still had some control left in all of this. But she also had his less than steady constitution to consider.

So, for a moment, she debated with herself what the bigger risk was. Ethan fainting in the shower by himself, or Ethan getting agitated out here if she told him that he was not gonna make it in there alone. In the end, she decided to give it to him straight, hoping he would see the light of reason:

"Ethan, you need to take a shower before you can go to bed. And I'm not gonna let you collapse in there, if your legs suddenly don't hold you up anymore."

She could see that he was hearing her. That he was even agreeing with her up to a point. But then, somewhere – and she couldn't have said where – he seemed to find one more ounce of strength, which he was calling up now as he steadied himself against the wall.

"I can do this."

And she could see that he meant it. _Really_ meant it.

Just from the way how Ethan kept his eyes fully focused on hers as he said it, she knew he was not willing to argue this point with her. It was Not. Gonna. Happen.

For a moment, Jane's gaze kept flickering back and forth between the bathroom door and Ethan's eyes, taking in his determined expression. Eventually, and with a sigh, she found herself compelled to make a counter-offer.

"Alright, how about I split the difference with you? You let me get you in there, so I can make sure you're steady. Then I'll let you take care of the shower yourself. But you leave the door unlocked, so I can help you if you get in trouble. Is that a deal?"

She resolutely refused to blink first, as Ethan looked at her.

After another moment, however, he seemed to give in, somehow accepting the fact that this was the best – and only – concession he'd get from her on this matter.

"Okay," Ethan nodded tiredly, as he let Jane take his now trembling arm around her shoulder once more, exhaustedly following her lead as she took him the remaining distance to the bathroom.

Once they reached the bathroom, she was glad to see that Ethan seemed to be willing to let her do most of the work, as she got him out of his shoes and shirt. He then handled the buttons of his pants himself, but accepted her help in pulling them off his feet, so that eventually he was only clad in his shorts. She caught his eyes to make sure he was still willing to take care of the rest himself.

With a careful nod he let her know he was.

And since Ethan had been able to conserve some of his energy during the removal of his other clothes, he looked just steady enough now for Jane not to simply overrule his wish.

Giving Ethan the privacy he had asked for, she then stepped out of the bathroom, leaving him to undress the rest of himself in dignity. As she pulled the door closed behind her, she just made sure that the lock didn't engage. Jane waited outside for a moment to listen for any sounds of trouble. But as she didn't hear any subsequent crashes, and the silence in the bathroom was eventually filled with the sound of the shower running, she quickly went the few feet down the hall to take care of the matter of clothing.

-o-

Her first problem was one that set her apart from probably a decent number of women on the planet: She had never been in Ethan's bedroom.

So she had no clue where he kept what. Thankfully, though, Jane was able to tap into her knowledge of having lived with two larger brothers in her youth, and after some exploration, she soon found that – no matter how exceptional Ethan was as an agent – deep down he was still very much a man. And men tended to keep things simple, at least when it came to clothes.

Within moments she found what she was looking for. Quickly she took some dark-blue pajama shorts and a comfortable-looking grey t-shirt from one of the drawers. With her findings in hand she then returned to the bathroom, where, after making sure that the water was still running in the shower, she carefully opened the door just enough for her arm to fit through.

Without even looking in the direction of the closed shower stall, she placed the pajama shorts and the shirt onto the cabinet just inside the door, where Ethan would see them as soon as he got out of the shower.

'I just hope he doesn't break his neck as he puts them on,' Jane prayed.

And then she waited.

-o-

He didn't break his neck.

At least that's what she gathered from the muffled dressing sounds that eventually drifted through the closed door once the water was shut off. He didn't seem to be too steady, however, either, if the soft curses she could occasionally hear were any indication. But since she had promised him she would not intervene until he really needed her help, there was not much else she could do but to stay outside, and wait for him to exit the bathroom.

She did, however, breathe out a low sigh of relief when she saw him finally emerge, obviously still in one piece.

When he stepped out the door, the first thing she noticed was that he had managed to get into the shorts.

The shirt, however, was nowhere in sight.

And she could see that he was now teetering on the last end of his strength.

'Well, at least he clearly still has his priorities straight,' she realized almost with a smirk, as she took in how the shorts had obviously been at the top of his list - while the shirt was simply cancelled due to an overwhelming lack of ability to handle the trouble of any more clothes.

As she moved forward to give Ethan a hand, she did her best to ignore the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders were moving as he tightly gripped the doorframe and the wall in an attempt to stay upright. He clearly needed help now. This was not the time to appreciate Ethan's physique.

And the fact that – ever after the shower – Ethan's skin was already burning up again, brought her mind quickly back to the matter at hand.

She helped him get to his bed, where she carefully made him lie down. She then arranged a thin blanket over him, so he would not be too warm, but not completely without cover, either. She expected Ethan to perhaps object at some point. But he didn't.

Ethan was out cold by the time she pulled the cover up to his chest. The battle with sleep was one that he had clearly lost, exhausted beyond the limits of even his endurance.

'So much for part two of this mission,' Jane realized with a touch of relief.

But she knew the hardest part was still to come.

And considering how he was burning up already, she could see that it was gonna be a long night for Ethan.

Watching him sleep relatively easy for the moment, she decided to use the time and make herself a large can of coffee for the night.

'I have a feeling I'm gonna need it…' she thought, as she eventually came to rest in the comfy chair she had dragged into Ethan's bedroom, settling in for a long night. And then she kept watch.

-o-

It was three hours later, when it happened.

And she could tell the exact moment when Ethan's breathing suddenly changed.

For the past three hours, Ethan's fever had continued to climb. He had become increasingly agitated as the night went on, and his head had started turning fitfully from side to side. His legs were moving restlessly underneath the covers, getting tangled in them at times, but not kicking them off.

Then, in the darkness of the room, Ethan had suddenly stopped moving.

But it was not because he was resting easier again. In fact, he was no longer resting at all.

His eyes were open now. Only he wasn't aware of the room. Or her.

His lips were moving. Voicelessly at first. Then some slow murmurs…getting more urgent.

Ethan was no longer sleeping. But he clearly wasn't awake, either.

'Don't do this, Ethan…please…' Jane prayed silently, hoping that this wasn't what she had feared. But the truth was that she had almost expected it to happen. Hell, Brandt and Benji had, too. That's why the three of them hadn't wanted to leave Ethan by himself tonight, even though none of them had voiced the name of their fear out loud.

Hallucinations.

It was what happened when a fever became so high that the mind no longer knew what was real and what wasn't. And considering how quickly Ethan's condition had deteriorated, they had known this risk was more than just a possibility.

Now, with any common man, a mild case of hallucination would mean that perhaps that person could not remember in the morning what had happened during the night. At worst, it would be something to joke about later with your friends, once you felt better.

But in the case of someone like Ethan, the story was a bit different.

When you were trained to be able to kill – and kill, without consciously needing to think about what you were doing – even the slightest inability to differentiate between hallucination and reality was something not to be taken lightly.

It was dangerous. Deadly even, if the circumstance were unfortunate.

'Alright Jane, you wanted the job, now handle it,' Jane thought cautiously, putting aside the cup of coffee she had been holding, as she slowly straightened in her chair. She then leaned slightly forward, ready to intervene if Ethan's agitation became any worse.

She couldn't understand yet what Ethan was murmuring. But whatever it was, it was getting more intense by the second. So intense, in fact, that she realized he no longer seemed aware of where he was anymore.

It took a moment until she understood that some of the words he was mumbling were Burmese. She could identify a few individual words, like 'mission' and 'jungle'. And 'kid'.

She didn't understand much else of what he was murmuring in his fever, but from what she was wearing, she could take an educated guess. And that guess left her wondering if she was maybe just a little out of her league with this after all.

It sounded to her as if Ethan, or at least Ethan's mind, was back on some past mission, somewhere in a Burmese jungle, going after a kid, for whatever reason.

Frankly, she could think of three reasons that would make the IMF send out an agent on a mission after someone. One possibility was the rescue of an asset. Another one was the kidnapping, or 'securing', of a target, to gather valuable information. And then there was a last option that she didn't even want to consider in this case: the elimination of a threat.

Whatever Ethan had been sent out for on that mission, it obviously involved a child.

"'Need to find …" Ethan's words suddenly became more distinct, as was his agitation.

"…Kid…" he breathed restlessly, with sweat running down the side of his face, and his fingers now tightly gripping the sheet beneath his hands.

"Where is…k-?" Ethan's eyes were darting around, even looking at her now, but really looking right _through_ her, as if he wasn't even seeing her. His shoulders were slowly coming off the mattress, as he weakly tried to raise his upper body off the bed.

Fully aware that she was approaching a man who, literally, was more than capable of killing her in his sleep, Jane carefully leaned forward, trying to move into his line of vision without getting into his immediate line of attack, should he suddenly decide to strike out against an invisible enemy.

Carefully drawing Ethan's attention with soothing words, she tried to calm him down, in an attempt to take him back to the here and now, to let him know that he wasn't back in the jungle. That he was in his home, safe, and there was nothing that was going to harm him here.

"It's alright, Ethan, you can lay back again…you are home, do you understand that? You need to go back to sleep, everything is fine. You're home. It's okay."

Jane didn't know what Ethan was seeing, but as his feverish gaze came to rest on her, the renewed frown on his face and the utter confusion in his eyes told her that he clearly could not place this room, let alone her, into a scenario that made any sense to him.

Then the expression in Ethan's eyes changed. And for the fraction of a second Jane thought she actually saw something like fear in Ethan's eyes.

In a trembling attempt to put some distance between himself and whatever he was seeing, Ethan suddenly began moving away from her, pushing himself up and back until his bare shoulders hit against the backrest of the bed. Even as he couldn't move further back, his hands kept going, blindly reaching behind himself, as if looking for something that he apparently expected to be there in his feverish state of mind.

Then, as if his mind suddenly recognized a glimpse of his current location – but in a clearly mixed up perception of reality and imagination – he seemed to remember one detail that was of use to him, as his hand accidentally hit against the drawer beside his bed.

Not wanting to make him feel cornered, Jane wisely refrained from restricting his movements in any way. But she cautiously lifted her hands in a placating gesture, showing him that there was nothing in her hands, nothing about her that he needed to be afraid of.

She was about to tell Ethan that whatever he was looking for, it was only in his mind, that he was dreaming – that there was nothing there.

She was wrong.

And from one moment to the next, she suddenly found herself face to face with a man, who not only didn't seem to know who she was - but who was now feverishly staring right at her down the barrel of a loaded handgun.

And despite the distinct tremble in his arm - his aim was frighteningly steady.

-o-o-o-o-o

_To be continued… if you wanna know how this turns out. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**_CAUTION: This chapter gets a T rating...some disturbing moments in this one... _**

_-o-_

_Author's Notes:_

_I know this is slow going, but hey, better slow than not at all, right? :o)_

_I am also planning on picking up the remainder of "What a Tangled Web" soon. And I have an idea already in the pipes for fox4mel's wish for a "Russian Prison" piece. _

_But first, let's get on with this story. There will be one more chapter after this, the final Chapter 5, so look out for that. *devilish grin*_

_P.S. at _nunquam perpetuum_: Sorry, I'm not available on PM, it's nothing personal, just a general rule of mine. Sorry about that._

_-o-_

**Chapter 4**

They say that life is a process of learning. In school, you learned the basics. At work, you got an advanced education. And if your job description happened to include the abbreviation IMF, you either learned some more, or your study time was up. In the most permanent kind of way.

Jane had always considered herself a good student.

Still, as she looked at the sight before her, she got the quite disturbing feeling that nothing in life had ever prepared her for this.

For starters, it wasn't easy to look down the barrel of a loaded gun and think clear thoughts at the same time. It was even more difficult when the gun was that of your own team leader – and it was almost impossible when the man currently holding the gun was looking at you like it was of no difference to him whether you lived or died.

'Easy Jane. This is not the Ethan you know. This is Ethan on a mission past, and you have no idea how that mission ended in the first place,' Jane tried to conjure up a calmness in herself that she wasn't sure she had in her.

Whatever was gonna happen next, she knew that it would all depend on whether or not she could get through to Ethan. And since the actual reality of this room wasn't a common denominator at this moment, she realized her only way to reach Ethan was through whatever he thought was real.

'Alright, Jane… think…what do you know…?'

It was very little.

Ethan had been on a mission, presumably in Burma. He had been looking for some kid in a jungle. Chances were that a kid was probably too young to be a 'target' to be kidnapped by the IMF for information. And she didn't even want to dare think about the IMF sending out Ethan to eliminate a kid as a potential threat. That left the likely possibility that the kid was an asset, obviously in some kind of hostage situation out in the jungle. And Ethan had been sent after the asset on a rescue mission. In fact, that sounded like a mission Ethan would take on in a heartbeat.

From Ethan's feverish murmurs she also deducted that Ethan had encountered some trouble during the mission. Her best chance now would be to find out what kind of trouble – perhaps that way she could talk Ethan down.

"Ethan…?" she cautiously asked him, keeping her voice soft, not sure if he would even speak to her.

"Where is…where's…- kid?" Ethan's voice was husky, rushed and it sounded a bit like he was out of breath. Like he had been running.

Jane took a calculated risk.

"I don't know, Ethan… but if you can tell me where you are, I can perhaps help you find ..."

Almost instantly she was cut off by Ethan's clearly desperate voice:

"You _have_ to know where he is! I saw you talk to him in the village!"

Okay. Two new facts. Point one: Ethan had been tracking the boy even before the jungle, and he had been tracking 'her', too. Point two: Ethan really had no idea at the moment who she was.

Either way, though, she got the feeling that whoever he perceived her to be, he wasn't looking at her as an enemy. More like a source of information. That meant he probably didn't intend to shoot her without sufficient provocation – which she did not intend to give him.

Now, if only she found the right approach, she might be able to convince him that the kid was safe. That he didn't need to find the kid anymore. That he could rest now.

What she was about to do was a gamble.

"Alright… I understand what you are saying… if you saw me with him earlier, I believe you. It's just that I don't remember when that was. If you could tell me when you saw me with him, I might know where he went after that. Can you tell me where you saw me?"

She prayed that he would take the bait. If not, she was prepared to dive out of the line of fire – even though she knew it would most likely be futile. At this range, there was no way Ethan could miss, even in his feverish state.

For a moment Ethan seemed to be unsure what to do. Then she saw a flicker of irritation cross his face. But after another pause, during which he had to steady himself with one hand against the backrest behind him - he seemed to take her up on her offer to help, because he went on talking, slowly, confusedly, as if what he was saying was only coming back to him in flashes.

"I followed you …through the village…you were both guarded … four men…they were bringing you back into the jungle."

He shook his head as if the memory was hazy, like it was trying to evade him.

"I tracked you… down to the camp…but the kid's not…I can't find the kid anywhere. I found…found you, but I can't find the kid…..gotta find…find…kid…" Ethan's words were starting to slur badly, his breath catching as well, so much so that she could see him getting light-headed before her eyes.

'If he falls unconscious now I might get out of this without having to risk my neck any further,' Jane realized, but her hopes were quickly scattered as his eyes flickered back to her once more, this time almost pleadingly:

"Please, tell …me…where the kid is…I can take you with me…you'll be safe…I c-…can save..you both…Mallardo won't find you…" the gun wavered in his hand for a moment, as he struggled to keep himself upright.

It was when she heard that name, that several things suddenly fell into place all at once.

In her early years as an agent, she had once taken an advanced class in 'case analysis'. Their task had been to analyze reports of missions that had gone wrong, to see if they could find better ways to train their agents to avoid similar failures in the future. Some reports they were asked to analyze were clearly fake missions, i.e. they had never taken place. Some, however, were also from real missions, where the reports had merely been cleared of the names of the IMF agents involved.

When Ethan mentioned the name Mallardo, Jane realized she recalled that name from a report she once read in class.

A drug dealer, Mallardo, had planned to expand his business from Burma into US territory. To achieve that goal, Mallardo had kidnapped the son of the then-director of the anti-drug agency in the area, effectively blackmailing the man to look the other way if he wanted to ever see his son again. The matter had been kept quiet for a while, but somehow the IMF had gotten wind of it, and had decided that it was in the interest of the US to give a helping hand in the matter. An agent had been sent out.

But the mission had ended in a catastrophe.

At first, things had looked relatively cut-and-dry. The agent, who had been sent after the kid, had succeeded in picking up the boy's trail. He had found a way to follow the kidnappers into the jungle. According to the report, the agent had then observed the rebel camp for two hours, checking for guard patterns and other important information necessary for a quick go-in-and-get-out rescue. The agent had also determined which of the tents most likely held the boy and that the hour right before sunset – when most of the rebels were having their dinner around the campfire - would be the best time to stealthily move in and get the kid.

When the opportunity came, the agent had gone in.

That's where the mission report turned sketchy.

Apparently, it had been a matter of extremely bad timing. It hadn't been the agent's fault. Nobody could have known that no two minutes before the agent went in to rescue the kid, Mallardo had the boy's neck snapped, because the boy had refused to 'entertain' him before dinner. According to the report, the boy's body lay dead in the dirt just inside the tent, only half clothed, when the agent had found him.

The remainder of the mission report was an assemblage of actions that the IMF neither sanctioned, nor wanted repeated in future missions:

The campsite went up in an explosion that took out a good portion of a nearby drug plantation with it. Many rebels died in the fire. Only the guards at the front of what had been the hostage tent never even felt the explosion – their throats had been expertly cut to exert the most possibly damage, leaving them bleeding to a painful death long before the fire of the explosion burned their bodies to ashes.

The next day, the kid's body was found wrapped in a clean blanket at the doorstep of the local police station. And two days later, Mallardo's body was found fifteen miles away from the campsite, in the middle of the jungle – with no obvious signs of deadly injury. But it appeared that he had been literally hunted down. His feet had been bleeding. His clothes had been dirty and drenched with old sweat. His face had been contorted in death in a lasting grimace of panic.

The coroner later concluded that it might have been some kind of heart attack – brought on by a prolonged state of extreme physical overexertion. Nobody had never seen anything like it. As the words in the coroner's report described it: If anybody ever died from 24 hours of non-stop screaming in fear – it would look exactly like this.

When the IMF got a call from its agent on the fourth day, requesting a pick up, the whole matter had reached a point where the IMF decided to sweep the whole incident under the carpet. The director of the anti drug force had retired soon after, with the order to keep quiet about the circumstances of his son's death. As far as the world was concerned, no rescue had ever been attempted, officially. And the mission file only served as a training example to teach agents like her that sometimes, missions simply went wrong – and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Which left Jane in quite a delicate situation.

She knew now what kid Ethan was referring to. She also knew that the kid he was looking for was dead.

And she knew damn sure that this was not a piece of information she wanted to give Ethan in his current state.

'It's time to skirt the truth, Jane. And you better lie well…' she concluded, as she saw that Ethan seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

But she also saw that whatever was keeping Ethan upright was not gonna keep him going much longer. His hand was now visibly shaking. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his shoulders leaned heavily against the backrest behind him. She could see his eyes slowly lose their focus altogether.

Whichever way this went, it would be over within the next minute. That basically left her with two options.

Should she try and attempt to take the gun from Ethan's shaking hand and hope she was faster than he was in his weakened state? Or could she take the risk of stalling Ethan just a little longer, and hope he lost the battle with consciousness before he could decide to shoot her after all?

Technically speaking, the gun was still aimed at her, a risk to her life.

But it was the look in Ethan's eyes that made the decision for her.

The pain in his features was gradually outweighing any aggressiveness in his posture, and his eyes now no longer held any accusation – they only held desperation. And hope.

The hope that she could help him find the kid.

The hope that she could bring this to an end.

And the hope that he could finally rest. He was so tired. So bone-tired.

So Jane spoke up once more, even softer this time:

"It's alright Ethan…I know where the kid is…I know. You found him. You found him and everything is taken care of. The kid is home now. He is with his family. He is safe," Jane soothingly spoke, and when she saw that her words were starting to have an affect on Ethan, she dared not stop again.

"You brought him back. You no longer have to look for him… it's time for you to rest. You did good, Ethan, so you can rest now…" Jane continued, and she saw the gun in Ethan's hand waver.

And then it began to lower.

She wasn't sure if it was only due to her words, or if it was the muscles in Ethan's arm simply losing their tension as his whole body started to tilt forward, but whatever the reason, she was glad to see the gun come down.

Carefully, not making any sudden moves that might startle Ethan into trying to raise the gun again, Jane slowly reached out with one hand, forward, inch by inch, until her hand touched the top of the gun slide, her fingers coming into contact with the cool metal. As she felt Ethan's grip on the gun weaken even further, she slowly adjusted her hold on the gun, taking it from his hand as it slowly slid out of his fingers.

Just as Ethan's hand lost the last point of contact with the gun, he also lost his fight with consciousness, and he slowly fell forward, his head coming to rest against her shoulder as she caught him just in time. Holding Ethan upright with one hand while she held on to the gun with her other hand was not easy, but somehow she managed to hold on to both without dropping either.

Putting the gun out of reach behind her, she then used both her arms to get a hold of Ethan's upper body, so she could settle him back against the pillows, letting him come to rest in a more comfortable position. In the end, as she looked down at him, now motionless once more underneath the covers, she finally allowed herself a deep breath.

That had been a close call.

One that she would probably remember for the rest of her life.

But her only hope was that Ethan might not remember it at all. If she had one wish free, it would be that. It would be kinder on him that way.

He had carried the fate of the dead boy around with him for years without their knowing. If things had gone the way they should have, Jane would never have found out that the unknown agent from that botched up mission years back was none other than the man who was now lying before her.

But now she knew.

Only that knowledge had never been intended for her.

This was Ethan's call. His memory to share, if he ever decided that he wanted to share it.

Hell, they all had skeletons in their closets.

Maybe not as scary as the ones that Ethan carried around with him, but if you dug deep enough, there was something in every agent's file that was kept in the farthest corner of their minds, some dark memory they had simply learned to live with.

It was something that belonged to you.

No one else.

So as she slowly moved back to her chair again, still keeping one eye on Ethan at all times, she settled in for the rest of the night with the resolution that whatever had taken place here tonight, it would stay in this room.

If Ethan wanted to talk to her about it, she would be there.

But if Ethan never remembered any of this in the morning, she would not force him to relive the memory by telling him about his fever dream.

It all depended on what Ethan would remember once he woke up…

-o-

_To be continued in the final chapter … _

_Oh, and…don't ever underestimate the rest of Ethan's team – they still have one trump card left to play. ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Ready for the final chapter? Here it comes! _

_I also want to take this opportunity to thank you all for your feedback throughout this. It's what kept me going. Thank you! :-)_

-o-

**Chapter 5**

When Ethan woke up the next morning, it was a bit like waking from a knockout. He certainly knew what that felt like. The only problem was, he couldn't remember having gotten knocked out. Which, frankly, left him more than a bit confused.

When he came to, the first thing he felt was cold. He realized it was because he was covered with sweat, which was slowly cooling on his skin.

Apparently, he had been nursing a high fever during the night.

A fever which had now broken.

He couldn't remember much from what had happened before he went to sleep. In fact, he wasn't even sure how he got home. What he did know was that, right now, he was feeling…better.

Unconsciously wiping some sweat off his face with one hand as he righted himself on his elbow, he tried to come to grips with what the hell happened to him.

Slowly his memory came back to him.

He had been on a mission. With his team.

He had fallen down a waterfall. And Jesus, that had hurt.

But then…

'Oh yeah...then I came down with something, probably from that damn water.'

Considering how badly he had already felt on the flight home, he assumed the hours after that had been even worse.

It must have been one hell of a night.

As he looked to his left, he saw that fortunately, he was alone.

Glad that he had obviously managed to keep his team from finding out about his temporary condition, he half-turned to his other side to throw a glance at his bedside watch, wanting to check just how long he had slept.

That's when he realized he had obviously not spent the night as alone as he first thought.

There was a neatly set up cup of mint tea on the bedside table, right next to his alarm clock. And there was a note leaning against the cup.

"**_Good morning. Full breakfast is available in the kitchen. Try the omelet, you could use the protein._**

**_P.S. Don't skirt breakfast; I'll know if you do."_**

O-kay. He had apparently missed a visitor.

Assuming that this visitor had been one of his team, this only left the question 'which one'?

Frankly, the note could have come from any member of his team. But seeing how subtle the post-scriptum threat was phrased – a definite female trademark – Ethan concluded it was most likely Jane's idea. Besides, her handwriting was a dead give-away.

So, the note came from Jane.

That meant, at some point during the night, Jane had been here.

He couldn't remember any of it.

He tried. For a moment, he really tried. But aside from the feeling that there was _something_, he couldn't grasp it.

With a frown of acceptance, he concluded that Jane probably dropped him off at his house last night to make sure he was okay. And obviously, once she had seen that he was doing alright on his own, she had left – but not without leaving him that note so he wouldn't skip breakfast once she was gone.

'Leave it to Jane to think of all contingencies,' Ethan smiled ruefully.

Slowly he got to his feet, a bit shaky still, and maybe not completely steady on his own two legs just yet - but feeling a damn sight better than last night, that was for sure. It seemed that even the flu was afraid to stay with Ethan Hunt for long.

But there was one thing _he_ was afraid of, as well.

Crossing Jane.

So he dutifully took the cup from the bedside table, and tasted a sip from the brew as he stood next to his bed. Then, only momentarily aware that he was clad in nothing but his pajama shorts, he crossed the distance from his bed to the bedroom door, and - simply taking the cup along with him - he wandered out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Walking barefoot down the stairs, and with Jane's threat still very much on his mind, he decided to head into the kitchen first.

He wasn't sure _how_ Jane would know, but something told him that she _would_ somehow find out if he skipped that breakfast mentioned in the note.

He almost chuckled at the idea of asking Jane later at the office, just out of curiosity, what she had intended to do to him if he tricked her on this.

But as soon as he stepped into his kitchen, he found himself stopping short. And for a moment, he wasn't sure if he was still dreaming.

There was his team. Making himself a home in his kitchen.

Benji was lounging at the set-up kitchen table, an empty plate before him, but a full glass of orange juice held happily in his hand. Brandt was standing some feet off to Benji's left side, directly in front of Ethan's very own kitchen stove, where Brandt was quite apparently in the process of frying what looked like no less than four omelets.

As Ethan took in the sight, wordlessly – his mouth definitely open, but not finding any words to describe what he was seeing – he felt like he had stepped into the wrong kitchen. This couldn't be his. His was supposed to be empty. Of food. And of people.

But it clearly wasn't.

The point was brought across to him once more, when he felt a sudden tap on the back of his bare shoulder.

"Mind if I step through?" Jane's voice sounded very much amused as she waited for him to half-turn around, until he could see her patiently standing right behind him.

He noticed that Jane's first glance went to the cup in his hand. Then, with what looked like a satisfied smirk at how he hadn't dared to sidestep her 'order', he could see her eyes wander upward, now clearly taking notice of his less-than-normal clothing.

His subsequent squirm kept him from noticing how her appreciative glance was actually a very efficient cover-up to hide what she was really doing - checking his state of health and mind - with the conclusion that he was certainly doing much better than he had last night. When Jane's gaze finally met Ethan's eyes again, he did notice her soft sigh of relief, but – as he stepped aside to let her pass – he put it down to what he thought was her relief about the fact that he was obviously refraining from simply throwing them out of his kitchen.

As he took in the sight of his team now cluttering about his kitchen table like it was the most normal thing in the world, Ethan realized that he had perhaps underestimated his team when it came to his health.

Plus, he also understood now how Jane would have _known_ if he had skipped breakfast.

So, looking at each member of his team individually, he finally spoke with an only half-serious frown.

"Is there any chance I can get you out of my kitchen?"

"Uhm…no?" Brandt smiled right back at him, as he expertly slid the omelets out of the frying pan with a flick of his wrist, one omelet onto each of the four plates.

Accepting defeat when he knew it was staring him right in the eye, Ethan eventually heaved a sigh – and then he grabbed the back of a chair, sliding it out so he could sit down at the table.

Benji used the opportunity to quickly give him an encouraging toast with his glass of orange juice. Jane simply put another fresh cup of tea in front of him before she, too, sat down.

It was then that Ethan knew.

Sure, he might be the toughest and most hard-headed agent the IMF had – but against his own team, those qualities were clearly useless.

Against his team, he did not stand a chance.

But for once, he didn't mind that.

And, as he dug into the large arrangement of food on his plate, he was even willing to admit one other thing:

His team sure knew how to cook.

THE END


End file.
